


Far From Home

by airgeer



Series: Far From Home [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 11:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airgeer/pseuds/airgeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The New Directions are an amateur adventuring company that dreams of being heroes. Their dream comes true, but not the way they thought it would.</p><p>Part One: An attack on the town they grew up in changes everything for twelve teenagers. They dreamed of leaving, but now they just want to make it back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Far From Home

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based off the 4ed Dungeons & Dragons sourcebooks, however, I've messed around with quite a lot of mechanics and also drawn from earlier editions and other worlds. Knowledge of D&D is certainly not required to understand this fic.

_Centuries ago, or so the stories say, our world went through a dark time. If I’m being honest, it was only one of many times of darkness, and is truly far from unique. You know that the Weave of magic covers the world, yes? Good, I’m never sure what you children are taught in nursery these days._

 

_What you may not know is that the Weave was created by a goddess, who sat at her great loom and spun a cloak of wonder and mystery for the world. As people do, when they learned of it they struggled to use it, and many great wizards learned to harness the power of the Weave to alter reality._

 

_There have been many ages of heroes, people who sought glory, or power, or merely wished to help others. To have heroes though, you must have villains, and the greater the heroes, the more horrible the villains become._

 

_What caused the particular time of darkness that I will tell you about in these days I have among you is that the villains became more powerful than the heroes, and defeated them. The goddess was murdered, and the echoes of her death collapsed much of the Weave, and corrupted more of it. Everything magical became twisted and wrong, entire cities were engulfed in spellfire, earthquakes struck where they never had before, and people died, children, so many people. This was the horror of the Spellplague._

 

_Even after the initial devastating tragedies, the destruction continued. Great spans of land were covered by an unnatural blue mist, a product of the corrupted Weave, and all living creatures within were changed irrevocably into horrible, twisted abominations, feeding off of the living and each other indiscriminately. These areas were called Plaguelands, and were avoided at all costs. Even a short exposure to the Plaguelands could change a person, and the spellscarred, as those who escaped the Plaguelands before they were twisted into full abominations were called, were feared and reviled for their ability to cast spells using the magic of the corrupted Weave that had infected them. However, there was still hope for recovery, as you should be able to guess at from the state of the world in our days. The Weave was created as part of the world and as part of the goddess, and though it was damaged by her death, it will only be truly destroyed when the end of the world comes._

 

_The intact parts of the Weave retreated in those first years after the Spellplague struck, but it soon began to re-cover the world, beginning with the areas least affected by the Spellplague. Few large settlements had survived the initial ravages of the Weave’s upheaval, but those that had became major centers for the survivors. Contact was lost between many places separated by Plaguelands and distance, but life went on. Wizards relearned the art of the Weave and the people rebuilt and adjusted to their new realities._

 

_One hundred years after the death of the goddess, the Weave had spread back to the edges of the misty Plaguelands, and a sort of balance had been reached between the corrupted and healthy parts of the Weave. That year was an important one, children, but the story that I will tell to you begins seventeen years after that one, in a tiny mountain town, with a group of young people called by destiny to be heroes._

 

~*~

 

Puck kicked at a clod of dirt as he walked his patrol, sending it flying. He considered pulling his axe off his back and batting the chunk along in front of him as he walked the outside of the walls, but Commander Beiste had yelled at him loudly enough when she’d happened to glance over the parapet last time he’d done it that his ears still rung to think about it.

 

Patrol was his least favourite part of militia training. It meant that he was alone with his thoughts, and they had all been pretty fucking depressing ever since Quinn had given their baby to Shelby Corcoran in the hopes that she’d have a better life outside of Lilsholm. Granted, just about anywhere was better than Lilsholm, a town so isolated and northern that their only outside contact was the trading caravans came twice a year, but Puck still thought a lot about what could have been if they’d kept her. He knew it wouldn’t have been as good as he imagined it, that him working with the militia and her with the rangers and both of them still trying to dedicate time to the New Directions while raising a child together would have been a nightmare, and that Beth would be safe in Aelport in a way that Lilsholm could never guarantee, but it still hurt to think about her growing up away from him.

 

There was always a risk to living in Lilsholm. Orcs and bandits and other less common threats rarely dared to attack the town or the heavily fortified trading caravans, but sometimes people would go out into the forest and not come back. Sue Sylvester’s squad of rangers patrolled the forests, looking for threats to townspeople and putting them down, but there were not enough of them to take out every threat, and sometimes bad shit happened. Puck liked the part where the militia got to march out and assist in taking out a marauding band of orcs or werewolves, but the part where they had to go on recovery missions to find the bodies of his neighbours when they didn’t come home from a hunting trip sucked ass.

 

Puck’s eye caught on something moving in the forest. He stopped and looked back toward the town wall, forty yards away from where he stood in the outskirts of trees. He could see Finn standing there, his height marking him easily as he and Mike manned a wall lookout station. He scowled. Assholes, getting the decent assignment while he got to stomp through the damp soil from last night’s rain. He turned back to the forest and loosened his axe in its sheath, ready to strike at the first sign of danger.

 

“BOO!” shouted Brittany, swinging down from a tree directly in front of him to hang upside down from a low branch. Puck swore in surprise and leaped backwards as he instinctually swung his axe off his back and down. Brittany smoothly drew her twin swords and deflected his swing, and Puck landed on his ass in the damp earth with a squelch. Laughter echoed around him as Quinn and Santana appeared from the shadows of the trees, completing their three person ranger unit. Both Quinn and Santana had their bows strung and ready, like they were expecting a fight.

 

“Fuck you guys,” Puck mumbled, standing up quickly and brushing the crumbling earth out of his chainmail. “What are you doing so close to town? I thought your patrol was deeper today.”

 

“Tracking some goblins,” Santana drawled, still smirking. “You should have seen your face Puck, I thought you were going to have a heart attack or something.”

 

“Santana, you can’t joke about heart attacks until Kurt’s dad either gets all the way better or we stop hanging out with him,” Quinn admonished. She spoke sternly, but she was still obviously amused by Puck’s reaction. Puck would take a thousand knocks to his pride if she would laugh like that more often.

 

“It’s not like he’s here,  _Captain_ , and I didn’t actually know that was an option. I vote we stop hanging out with him,” Santana said. “He’s been a total downer, even since before his dad got sick. Plus, the way he does magic is fucking creepy, you know it is.”

 

“I like Kurt,” Brittany volunteered. “He showed me how stop the skin on my hands from cracking. And he’s really good at lighting fires.”

 

Puck rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Brittany, he is good at lighting fires. There was that time he accidently burned down half the forest when he was out with us. Mercedes being there too is the only reason half of us are still alive. That burn hurt like hell.”

 

Quinn rolled her eyes back at him. “Puck, you elbowed him into a tree while he was casting a spell. We’re just fortunate that he redirected mostly at the tree instead of mostly at you, and the burn was tiny. You didn’t even need Mercedes to heal it.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m just saying that if the New Directions really needs a magic user, we’ve got Artie, or even Rachel sort of counts with that singing thing she does. We don’t need Freaky Eyes too.”

 

“We’ve got like three rangers though, that’s lots,” Brittany said absently. “And you and Mike and Finn all hit things with swords too. And so does Tina. Mercedes is the only cleric though. Maybe I should be a cleric instead of a ranger.”

 

“I use an axe, not a sword, Brittany, okay, and I don’t think I’ve seen Quinn or Santana use a sword instead of a bow outside of a training ground like ever. And at least no one ever killed like a million people at once with a sword, okay? The Spellplague was magical and Kurt’s a part of it, even if he didn’t do it. There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to be around him. Now can we please talk about something else?” Puck had more than filled his talking-with-Brittany-about-dweebs quota for the day, but neither one of Quinn or Santana looked like they were going to bail him out.

 

Puck stopped talking when a branch crackled deeper in the forest, and lifted his axe with a quiet rasp of chainmail against chainmail as his armour rubbed. Brittany silently swung down from the tree and turned to face the source of the sound, and Brittany and Santana circled around the two of them to stand in the muddy field between the forest and the town walls.

 

“Identify yourself,” Puck barked out. “Who’s there?” Commander Beiste had drilled proper procedures into them until Puck could follow them in his sleep, but it hadn’t erased the thrill of authority he got whenever he used his “town guard” voice.

 

“It’s Tina,” a sweet high voice called back, “and Mercedes,” Tina finished more quietly as they emerged from the shadows of the trees.

 

The tension broke, and Puck reslung his axe as Brittany sheathed her swords across her back. “What are you doing out here?” Quinn asked. “There’s no meeting today, is there?”

 

“Nah,” Mercedes replied. “We just wanted to get out for a bit. Kurt’s fretting over his dad, and his dad seemed like he was getting pretty tired of it, so we figured it was best not to be around for a bit. And then Artie’s been holed up with a book for three days now, and it’s still weird with him and Tina, so we figured that we’d come out here and climb some trees or something.”

 

“Caravan’s due too,” Tina said quietly. “I’ve been bored. There’s only so many times I can pick a lock or practise wall-climbing before it just gets monotonous. The bakery’s done for the day anyway, and Dad’s been pretty grumpy lately, so we figured we’d wait and meet them coming in.”

 

“Well, that’s about the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” Santana said. “Let’s go find those goblins, they’re more interesting  _and_ more pretty than these two.” She stomped through the mud back toward the trees, snagging Brittany’s hand on her way past and dragging her into the forest. Quinn followed gracefully, and Puck watched her until she disappeared into the gloom of the trees.

 

When he looked back at Tina and Mercedes, both of them were looking at him with something like sympathy. Or maybe suspicion. It was hard to tell with girls. “Still hung up on Quinn, huh?” Mercedes observed.

 

“None of your business.” Puck kicked some of the muddy earth of his feet and resumed his patrol. Tina and Mercedes followed along, whispering to each other. When they reached the stony trail leading to the main gates of town that the caravan was expected to come up later that day, Puck turned to look down the trail. Company on patrol was okay, but he wasn’t interested in another lecture about how he should “respect” Hummel, and that would be all he got if the girls had overheard his conversation with Quinn’s squad. He would have to convince them that staying here and waiting for the traders to arrive would be more interesting than following him around.

 

“You can just-” Puck spotted the caravan and fell silent.

 

“Caravan’s here!” Tina said, clapping her hands lightly. “Well, almost.” A train of wagons was coming around the last hill before the climb to the town. It was a long, hard trek from anywhere civilized to Lilsholm, and merchants only made it because it was the point of contact between the dwarves who lived under the Frostspine mountain range that filled the sky to the north and east. The metal and precious gems that they mined had made Lilsholm into a semi-prosperous merchant town. Puck sometimes wished he was a dwarf, but that was mostly because he hadn’t ever met a dwarf that wasn’t a complete badass. He wouldn’t even mind being short if he could be that awesome.

 

“They won’t be here until tonight,” Mercedes observed. “Want to go meet them coming up, Tina?”

 

“Sure, I’ve pretty much got a free day now.” Tina waggled her fingers at Puck. “Bye, have fun patrolling!” She was only a reserve member of the militia, since her skill set of blending into shadows, picking locks and stabbing enemies in the back didn’t really lend itself to guard patrol where one could be attacked head on at any time, and while she was dangerous in the practice ring, she was also fairly delicately built, and far better suited to being a part-time “adventurer” and baker than a full-time militia member and part-time New Directions “adventurer” like Puck, Finn and Mike were. It hadn’t stopped her and Mike from hooking up on the few guard assignments they’d shared after she’d broken up with Artie though.

 

Puck trudged through the drying dirt on his second lap around the town, periodically scraping the muck off his boots. Everything either sucked or was boring, he decided halfway through. Quinn didn’t want to be with him, being a guard pretty much sucked all the time, and it wasn’t like the New Directions were ever going to leave Lilsholm to go on a real adventure. It was just Schue living the life he’d wished he’d been brave enough to have through them. Even pretending that they would leave Lilsholm someday kind of sucked now, after Matt had ditched on the spring caravan to find something better.

 

Puck looked into the woods. Still nothing. There was never anything. Maybe the caravan would make things interesting again, but Puck doubted it.

 

~*~

 

Rachel Berry, soon-to-be-famous bard, strode with purpose to the town square. She’d been caught up in her singing lessons with Will, and had missed the arrival of the caravan. She had requested a special amulet at the spring caravan to be brought back in the fall, and she  _needed_  to get there before it was sold to someone else.

 

She was so fixated on her mission that she nearly strode right into an enormous woman walking away from the square. She quickly side-stepped to avoid her, but tripped, only saved from falling by the woman quickly grasping her arm and holding her upright.

 

“You alright there, little girl?” The woman’s voice was deep, and rumbled out. Rachel looked up to meet her eyes, letting out an involuntary gasp when she did. The woman’s brow, such as it was, furrowed. “Is there a problem?”

 

“No! No, I was just surprised, most of the people who bother to come here are human or dwarves, I’ve never actually seen a dragonborn, I’m sorry for being rude!” Rachel’s voice pitched upward into a bare squeak. The woman was taller than Finn, even, and much bulkier. Her visible skin was covered in scales, and her face was draconic in a way that Rachel had only seen before in schoolbooks.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” the woman said, letting go of Rachel with a pat to her shoulder. “The caravan was surprised when I joined up too. I’m Sorin.”

 

“Rachel Berry,” Rachel responded, politely extending her hand. Sorin took it in her own enormous hand, covered in a sturdy, battle-scarred leather glove. “Oh!” she exclaimed, examining the glove. “Are you an adventurer? Have you seen many battles? I have an adventuring group, but they’re all woefully unenthusiastic. They’ll regret it when I’m a famous bard and they’re all still stuck here, though!”

 

“An adventuring group, you say?” Sorin said, interested. “I am an adventurer, as a matter of fact, and I’d be interested in meeting your group, but, uh, I’m actually here to catch up with an old friend. Do you know Burt Hummel?”

 

“Yes, of course, everyone does. He’s a very talented blacksmith. His son, Kurt, is in New Directions with me.” Rachel smiled up at Sorin. Usually people made an excuse to stop talking to her after an exchange of pleasantries. Rachel was grateful for the change, as it gave her the chance to hone her conversational skills.

 

“New Directions is the name of your adventuring group? Who came up with that?” Sorin looked like she was trying not to smirk.

 

“Our mentor, William Schuester. Why? What’s wrong with it?” Rachel turned it over in her head. Was there something off about it?

 

“Nothing, nothing. Do you know Burt well then? How has he been?” Sorin asked, pulling her hand out of Rachel’s grasp.

 

“Well, he actually had a heart attack a few weeks ago, so I haven’t seen him much. Kurt’s been taking very good care of him though. I think you’d have to go through Kurt to get to him actually, my dad said that he’s monitoring visitors to make sure they don’t tire him out.” Rachel smiled up at Sorin. “I’m sure that he’ll make an exception for you, after you came all this way!” she reassured quickly.

 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be talking to Kurt as well. I wouldn’t dream of leaving here before I did.” Sorin smiled back down at her toothily, then said, “I’m sorry, you looked like you were in a hurry and I’ve kept you so long already. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around, Rachel Berry.” Sorin patted her on the head carefully. Rachel had never felt so small.

 

“Do you need me to point out where they live? It’s not hard to find, they live above the smithy. I can help you find it even, or tell you anything else you need!” Rachel could feel the opportunity to show a real adventurer what she could do slipping through her fingers. She looked hopefully up, but Sorin shook her head.

 

“No, I’m fine for now.” Rachel tried not to sag too much at the dismissal, but Sorin went on to add, “Why don’t you round up your friends, and then come and find me again when I’ve seen Burt? We could continue our conversation at that time.”

 

Rachel beamed.

 

~*~

 

Kurt Hummel wound heat-softened wire around a hardwood rod. He was pretty far from a mastersmith like his father, but he could do the small chainmail repairs and shoe horses until his dad got back on his feet. Clerics could only do so much to cure natural illnesses, so while Mercedes and her cohorts were handy people to have around if you cut off your hand, they apparently weren’t so useful for heart attacks.

 

He slid the wire off the rod and began clipping it into rings. He didn’t know what Finn had done to his chain shirt and he honestly didn’t care to know, all that mattered was that he was the one who had to fix the enormous hole that he’d somehow put into it. He considered putting it off and making Finn wear the poorly fitting substitute one for a little longer, but he dismissed it as not being worth the trouble he’d be in if his dad found out.

 

Well, at least chainmail repair was an easy, if painstaking, process. Kurt skilfully wove the new links in and pinched them shut, repairing the gaps. He looked around the smithy, habitually checking the inventory of everything his dad had made for sale before he got ill. Things had been quiet recently, with almost no attacks on anyone to damage weapons or armour, so at least there wouldn’t be any huge projects demanding his dad’s attention when he got back to the forge.

 

“Hey, Hummel.” The familiar, mocking voice carried over to where Kurt was working like a slap to the face, and when he jerked in surprise the comfortingly heavy chainmail shirt slipped off his lap and onto the floor.

 

Kurt twisted on his stool as he stood up to face Karofsky. “Can I help you with something?” He clenched his fists to keep the tremor out of his voice, and the magic inside of him boiled with his sudden fear. Kurt tamped it down mercilessly. He couldn’t use his magic against a person, even accidently. His dad wouldn’t be able to protect him if he did.

 

“Well, maybe if you finally took yourself off into the forest and disappeared like the abomination you are,” Karofsky said, a smirk playing about his lips.

 

“You can keep calling me an abomination all you want, Karofsky, it’s not going to change a thing.” Kurt forced his ire down. He knew where he stood, and he couldn’t afford to react. Lots of people in town felt the same way as Karofsky did, they were just quieter about it.

 

They’d all learned in nursery that the toxic magic in the Plaguelands was damaging to everyone, that exposure to it should be avoided at all costs unless they wanted to be an abomination, and even at that young age, everyone in the room had looked at Kurt and at the blue scar that just peeked over the edge of his collar.

 

Kurt knew that he’d gotten the intricately shaped spellscar on his back just after he was born, somehow. The visible scar had affected the way people treated him all his life, but the treatment had taken a turn for the worse when Artie had begun to learn Weave magic just after the accident that had left him paralyzed. Kurt had mimicked Artie’s movements while he showed them a spell he had just learned, and to everyone’s surprise, it had worked despite his lack of training.

 

However, where Artie drew his magic from the Weave around him and learned from books new ways to access it, Kurt instinctively drew from an unnatural source deep inside himself, the invisible and more important reminder of the time he had spent in the Plaguelands. Only his father’s intervention had protected him from death when he’d begun to glow with the distinctive blue magic of an abomination, and the overwhelming opinion of him in Lilsholm was still distrust.

 

Karofsky clapped his hands together sharply, and Kurt swore at himself for allowing his attention to wander. “I think it will. See, you’re getting complacent. You hang out with your loser friends, playing at being a hero, a famous adventurer, but everyone knows that you’re nothing but a rabid dog, and they are just waiting for you to bite someone so you can be put down.” Karofsky deliberately crossed the smithy to Kurt, who stood his ground. He leaned in close. “Go ahead. Do it.  _Bite_.”

 

“Get away from me,” Kurt said firmly, staring Karofsky in the eye and refusing to blink.

 

Karofsky grabbed the front of his leather apron and pulled him closer, bringing them nose to nose. Kurt finally averted his eyes, and Karofsky snorted in triumph. “Only because you asked so nicely.” He flung Kurt down to the ground and stalked out, pushing over a display rack while he did.

 

Kurt was taking deep breaths to calm himself down enough to climb back onto his work stool when he heard footsteps approaching. He didn’t look up, keeping his eyes downcast, but was surprised when an enormous hand closed over each of his biceps, lifting him and setting him down on the stool, holding him there steadily.

 

“Are you alright Kurt?” The person sounded sincere at least, and Kurt chanced a glance up at her face. He recoiled in shock at what appeared to be the face of a small dragon before he realized that the caravan must have come in, bringing a dragonborn woman. He forced down his knee-jerk reaction of surprise to try not to be rude.

 

“I’m fine, thanks. Um, how exactly do you know my name?” He kept his tone polite, having long since learned not to antagonize a person who had a firm grip on his arms. He’d climbed out of enough refuse piles.

 

“I’ve been looking for you for a long time, Kurt. Of course I know your name.” She tightened her grip on his biceps to a bruising force, and Kurt was going to ask her to stop, but it didn’t really matter. She’d been looking so long, he shouldn’t ask questions. He should just do what he was told, and then she would take care of him.

 

The world tilted sideways, and then she was cupping his cheek and tilting his head upright while supporting him with her other hand. Kurt just felt so tired, like he could sleep forever. He could, he realized. Sorin would take care of him.

 

He was speaking, he realized with an observer’s detachment. She was asking him questions about where his friends lived, where she could find them right now to meet them, and Kurt was answering. And then he was moving, and she was showing him where to go and what to do, and everything was going to be okay, he had nothing to worry about.

 

~*~

 

Puck wandered into the square where the trading caravan had circled up. Merchants were displaying the stuff that they’d dragged all the way out here, and the townspeople were looking it over. Finn and Mike were with him, one good part of being in the New Directions was that Commander Beiste always had the three of them on shift at the same time to make things easier for Will when he was scheduling meetings.

 

Tina and Mercedes had been joined by Rachel at some point, and Puck could see them browsing through a table of jewellery while Rachel talked at them, obviously excited about something. Puck shuddered slightly and decided to not point them out to Finn and Mike. He did not need to listen to an excited Rachel Berry all night, Finn’s girlfriend or not.

 

Finn had spotted them anyway, and Puck could almost guarantee that his night had been ruined. But then Finn’s gaze slid off of Rachel and he said, sounding puzzled, “Is that Kurt?” Finn asked. “What’s he wearing?”

 

Finn had the advantage of height, and Puck couldn’t see who he was pointing at. He jumped up on a nearby ledge and peered across the way. Mike jumped up behind him silently.

 

“Looks like him,” Mike said. “He’s all dressed up like he’s leaving town.” They stood there in silence for a minute and then Mike exclaimed, “Damn, you mention Kurt dressed up to leave and not the enormous dragonborn holding his hand? Which one of those is more interesting?”

 

Puck jerked in shock.  _He hadn’t seen her_. Now that she’d been pointed out, she was unmistakeable, but she had blended into the walls she walked past and had been nearly invisible. “I didn’t see her until you pointed her out, Mike. Finn?”

 

“No,” Finn admitted. “I’m going to go make sure he’s okay.” He wove his way through the crowd. He wasn’t wearing his armour or sword, they’d all cleaned up at the garrison beforehand, but he was still one of the biggest people in town and Puck and Mike could easily follow in the path he made.

 

“Kurt!” Finn called when they were close. “Hey, Kurt!”

 

Kurt stopped and turned around, his cloak swishing on the cobblestones. He really was dressed to leave, Puck noticed. He was wearing a thick tunic against the early fall mountain chill, and a tall pair of boots. He was also completely unarmed, or as unarmed as a person who wielded dark magic could be.

 

“Hello,” he said calmly. “Is something wrong?”

 

“Um, no,” Finn said slowly. “We were just wondering where you were going so late. It’s going to be dark soon.”

 

“Yes, it is,” Kurt said, still eerily complacent. “I was going out into the forest for a bit.”

 

“Well, who’s that then?” Puck asked, pointing at the dragonborn, who had yet to turn around or let go of Kurt’s hand. At his words, she did both, facing them with a smile.

 

“My name is Sorin,” she said. “I also use an unconventional type of magic, and Kurt graciously volunteered to show me how his works for my studies.”

 

“Dude, this is the first time in like weeks that I’ve seen you out of the smithy and you’re acting all weird. Are you okay?” Finn asked Kurt, who smiled at him, suddenly looking completely normal again, or as normal as he got anyway.

 

“I’m fine, Finn. Sorin is a real adventurer. She said that she wants to see what we can do, so I’m showing her. Dad needs a break from me anyway.”

 

“Okay, man, if you say so,” Finn said dubiously. “When will you be back?”

 

Sorin cut in smoothly. “We should be no longer than an hour. If you’d like, you could gather the rest of your friends so I can meet them. I spoke to Rachel earlier, and she was very happy to do so.” Oh, so that was what Rachel was excited about. She continued, “Kurt’s told me so much about you, and I’m just dying to see what you kids can do.” She smiled wider at them, baring her sharp teeth.

 

“Okay,” said Finn, a goofy grin across his face. “We can do that, definitely.”

 

“Good lads,” she said huskily, taking Kurt’s hand again. “We’ll see you later. Why don’t you meet us at the gates in an hour? It will be dark, but I’m sure we can find some source of light.” The two of them turned and walked away, and Puck turned to Finn and Mike.

 

“Think she’s really an adventurer, or is she luring Kurt out into the forest to eat him?” he said. “Are we actually going to be at the gates?”

 

“Why not?” Mike asked. “If she really is an adventurer, she might have some advice. Either way, it’s more interesting than every other plan I’ve heard for tonight.”

 

“How about I go tell Rachel and them, Puck, you go get Artie, and Mike, you go see if the girls are back from patrol?” Finn suggested. “Then we can all go get dressed to go out and we should have lots of time.”

 

“Fine,” Puck said. It wasn’t like he had better plans, he never had better plans anymore, but what was she going to say? ‘Okay kids, you’ve got so much potential. Why don’t you come with me and see the world?’ Not likely. Although that would be awesome.

 

They split up, Mike heading to Sue Sylvester’s ranger headquarters, Finn turning back into the crowd, and Puck heading to the least populous part of town to the “mage tower”. It wasn’t a tower by any means, more of a house, but Artie’s dad would throw a shit fit if he heard anyone call it anything but a tower and his mom would be right behind him. Wizards had weird ideas.

 

He stood outside the tower. “Artie!” he called. “Artie, we’ve got stuff to do, get out here.”

 

Artie slid open the front window. “I’m busy, dude, I’m on the verge of a breakthrough. I’ve almost figured out how cast a fireball.”

 

“That’s nice, but I don’t actually care that much. Get out here, this woman came in the caravan and apparently she’s an adventurer who wants to meet us as a group. You need to get dressed for an expedition and meet at the front gate in half an hour. Make sure you bring your outside wheelchair, or whatever.”

 

“I think I know what I need to leave town a little better than you, Puck. I’ll be fine.” Artie bit his lip. “Is Tina going to be there?”

 

Puck rolled his eyes. “Of course she’s going to be there, and if I have to come in there and get you because you don’t want to see her you’ll regret it. You don’t see me complaining about Quinn, do you?” So what if he moped around over Quinn pretty much all the time. Wasn’t like Artie ever saw him doing it.

 

Artie looked like he was going to respond for a moment, but thought better of it and closed his mouth. He was learning. It warmed Puck’s heart to see. “Okay, fine, I’ll be there.”

 

“You’d better be, dweeb.” Artie closed his window with a snap, and Puck rolled his eyes. Kid was such a drama queen. It was seriously pathetic.

 

~*~

 

Rachel rubbed her hands together briskly, looking around at her nearly fully assembled group. “So I assume that Kurt is still too preoccupied with his father’s illness to come? I know Sorin went to see him and his father earlier.”

 

“No, he went out into the forest with her,” Finn replied. “She wanted to see what kind of magic he does.” Rachel tried not to show any outward signs of upset at the injustice of Kurt getting to go first when everyone knew she was the one with the most real potential.

 

“I was very impressed,” a deep voice said from behind her. Rachel jumped and spun, grabbing her chest to clearly illustrate her surprise. “He tired himself out quite quickly though, so I took him back home to sleep it off.” She extended a hand to Rachel. “It is a pleasure to meet you all, and to see you again, Rachel, Finn, Mike, Noah.”

 

“On the behalf of the New Directions, thank you for agreeing to see us. The pleasure is all ours, really. Adventurers don’t really come out this way very often, and we’re very excited to show you what we can do.”

 

“Well, then I’m sure we’ll continue to get on famously. Shall we?” Sorin gestured to the gates, and Rachel nodded vigorously, following as Sorin strolled towards them. She glanced back to make sure that everyone else was coming along, and was pleased to note that even Quinn and Puck were following her lead.

 

“So, Sorin, have you been on many adventures? Have you ever saved a town from destruction? What’s it like being an adventurer?” Rachel had many questions about adventuring, never having met an active one before. She hoped that Sorin would recognize her extraordinary talent and assist her on her path to becoming the greatest adventurer of her generation. She would reach her goal anyway, of course, but boosts along the way could only help her get there faster.

 

Her excitement crumbled when the guards on the wall screamed a warning in unison seconds before an enormous ball of fire careened overhead and crashed down somewhere behind them. Moments later, it was joined by a second and a third.

 

Rachel gasped, her jaw dropping. She could see fires starting up in three different areas of town, and hear the rest of New Directions reacting similarly to her. One of them looked like it had crashed down near the inn, where she knew her dads were, and another near the smithy. Kurt would be okay though, he was good with fire and would be able to put those out. And the inn was only a few streets over from the smithy, so once Kurt had dealt with those fires, he could easily save the inn. It would be okay. _Kurt’s useless when he’s exhausted though_ , a traitorous voice in her head whispered.  _It won’t be okay if they’re already dead._ Rachel shook head desperately, trying to get her head clear enough to take account of where the third fireball had landed. The town square, she realized in horror. There had been so many people there...

 

“Oh, gods,” Mercedes whispered behind her. “No. This can’t be happening.”

 

“It can and is, little girl,” Sorin said sharply. “And we’re going to go and stop it. We’re organized and ready for a fight. We need to get out there before they launch another attack.” Rachel turned to her, blinking to hold back tears. Sorin met her gaze steadily, her face stern. “This is what adventurers do, children. When bad things happen, they stop them. If you can’t handle it, you are not cut out to be one. Follow me if you’re coming.” She whirled and stormed towards the gate. Rachel paused only a second before following, and the clink of armour told her that at least Finn was coming.

 

Lauren Zizes and an older man that Rachel recognized by sight if not by name as the father of one of her agemates were on gate duty. “Open the gate,” Sorin demanded. “Let us out to deal with whatever is doing this. At the very least, we will stall them until a proper response can be organized.”

 

“Who the hell are you?” The man demanded. He was sweating visibly. Lauren’s stance was forcibly casual, the giant warhammer that was her weapon of choice slung over her shoulder, but her face betrayed her distress.

 

“Sorin, adventurer. Let us out before they reload.” She said it more firmly the second time, and the man turned without further argument and began winching the heavy gates open.

 

They slipped out when the gates were cracked open, and Lauren fell into step beside Rachel. “He’ll stay and take care of the gate,” she said. “I’ll come with you.” Her face was set and angry now, and Rachel wondered why she hadn’t tried harder to bribe her into the New Directions when they’d started. They had everyone except Kurt now, and Lauren would be almost as effective as him if it came to a pitched battle, probably more so, since she didn’t have his fear of actually using her talents against living beings to deal with.

 

Sorin glanced back. “Glad to have you. It’ll make things easier.” She picked up the pace until Rachel had to jog to keep up with her long legs.

 

They moved in near silence, breathing and the clanking of metal the only other sounds besides footfalls. They could hear voices on the outskirts of the forest that fell silent as they approached, illuminated by the moonlight. They had nowhere to hide if the enemy had archers, and Rachel began to doubt Sorin’s tactical prowess.

 

Sorin stopped dead suddenly. Rachel stumbled but caught herself. She wrapped her hand around the hilt of her shortsword, ready to draw it. She turned her head around to see Artie pulling up his sleeves on preparation for casting, Quinn and Santana stringing their bows, and Mercedes with her mace already in hand. Sorin stepped forward and turned back towards Rachel with a smile on her face.

 

“End of the line, kids. You can put your weapons away and make this easy, or you can try and fight and I will have my wizards burn your town to the ground.”

 

“What?” Rachel said, her lips numb with shock.

 

“I am not your friend,” Sorin explained calmly. “You are all just very naive, and very easy to manipulate. None of you even noticed me when I got inside your heads. It’s almost sad really, I expected much, much better from Burt.  He didn’t even tell his kid not to talk to strangers. It wouldn’t have made a difference, but still. It’s the principle of the thing.”

 

“Where’s Kurt really?” Mercedes demanded. “What did you do to him?”

 

“Not much, yet, and nothing I’m not going to do to all of you. We’ve just got a history and I wanted to make sure he left with me.” Sorin let out a long breath through her snout. “Look, kids, no matter what you do at this point, it ends with you in shackles in the back of a cart. The only thing you can control is if I burn down your town or leave it standing. Make a choice.”

 

When no one moved for a long moment, Sorin clapped her hands together. “Right, hard way it is then.” She slashed her hand through the air, and Mike collapsed bonelessly to the ground.

 

Tina screamed, and it jarred everyone into action. Mercedes dropped to her knees beside Mike, grasping her holy symbol and closing her eyes, lips moving in prayer. Santana and Quinn fired simultaneously at Sorin, but the arrows bounced off an invisible shield around her and fell to the ground at her feet.

 

People were pouring out of the woods now, and Rachel drew her sword. They couldn’t retreat, not without leaving Mike, and that was not an option. She stole a glance around her to check that everyone had fallen into formation, and then there was no more time for thinking. A man bore down on her, and she parried his swing, smoothly deflecting his sword down.

 

A bolt of magic shot by her and struck him in the face, courtesy of Artie, and Rachel took advantage of the opening provided to stab his in the belly as he screamed in pain. She jerked her sword out again, and he collapsed to his knees, curling around the wound.

 

They were getting overwhelmed. After the first unsuccessful volley, Quinn and Santana had moved to stand on either side of Artie, supporting Puck, Finn and Brittany by shooting the people threatening them. Tina tucked and rolled in a somersault, coming up behind a woman and slitting her throat. They were winning individual battles, but they were badly outnumbered. Mike was still down, and Mercedes was still kneeling beside him in an effort to heal whatever Sorin had done.

 

“Rachel!” Finn screamed suddenly. She whirled around, sword flashing in the moonlight, just in time for Sorin to catch her throat in one hand and her sword arm in the other.

 

“Little girl, you should have just lain down and let it happen. This is going to hurt.”

 

The world flashed with white hot pain, and then there was nothing.

 

~*~

 

“Puckerman.”

 

A sound penetrated the haze around Puck’s mind. His mom waking him up? Fuck it, he wasn’t ready to wake up. He nuzzled into his pillow a little further, hoping that his mom would go away.

 

“Puckerman.”

 

That wasn’t his mom’s voice. His mom usually didn’t call him by their last name, for one, and she only sounded like she was going to lose her temper when he actually deserved it where this voice sounded like it was teetering on the edge of anger.

 

“Puckerman, you get off my boobs afores I remove you from my boobs. We clear?”

 

Puck jerked awake, sitting bolt upright for a second before his head spun and he slumped backwards against a cold, wooden wall. He wondered for a second exactly what he had drank last night that made him feel so awful, and then everything came back to him in a flash.

 

“Fuck, we got our asses kicked,” he moaned.

 

“Yeah we did. Not my finest moment.” Puck finally turned his head to look at his conversation partner, and Lauren Zizes glared back at him owlishly. “Got a few of them before we got taken down though. That’s something.”

 

“She said she would...Is Lilsholm still there?” Puck thought of his mom, his little sister, dying in a fire, and felt like he was going to throw up.

 

“I dunno. I saw them launching another fireball just before I went down, but there was enough time that the wizards could have been on the wall to deflect it.”

 

Puck swallowed and looked around, needing a change of subject to hold back tears. Wooden walls, tall to the point where if he stood he probably couldn’t see over them, and they were moving with a rocking motion and occasional jolts. “We’re in a cart.”

 

“Brilliant observation. We’ll escape no problem with you on our side.” Lauren didn’t keep her voice down, and Finn, sitting directly across from them, began to stir. Puck lifted his hand to rub at his head, but he couldn’t reach that far. His hands were manacled together by cuffs that ran through an iron loop on the cart floor. His armour was gone, and so was his axe, but he hadn’t really expected to awaken with either of those when that fucking psion had grabbed his face.

 

He looked around, taking count of everyone that was there. Santana was on the other side of him, toward the back of the cart, and Brittany and Quinn were lying against each other across from her. Mike and Tina were facing each other at the very back. He sat up a little higher and looked around Lauren, and found all four of their spellcasters in a row against the front of the cart. Everyone was shackled down, and Artie’s fingers were tied together, presumably to stop him casting spells. Mercedes and Rachel were wearing unfamiliar bracelets over their sleeves that were obviously enchanted in some way, and Puck was willing to bet that they wouldn’t be doing anything magic either. Hummel was in the corner beside Artie, huddled up on himself with his eyes half closed.

 

Everyone was waking up and moving around now. When Rachel woke up and tried to say something but nothing came out, his suspicions about the bracelets were confirmed. There was some kind of silencing spell on them. He was almost grateful that he wouldn’t have to listen to her.

 

Kurt stayed limp and unmoving, and Puck started to wonder if he was actually still breathing. He didn’t react to anything going on around him, not even when Artie leaned in until his face was nearly buried in Kurt’s throat to check for a pulse.

 

“He’s alive,” Artie announced, pulling away from him. “He’s got a pulse, I don’t know why he’s not moving.”

 

“Nothing to worry about, kids,” Sorin announced, appearing at the top of the back of the cart and hooking her arms over to hold herself in place. Brittany let out a squeak of surprise, and there would be another Spellplague before Puck would admit it, but he did too.

 

“How can there be nothing to worry about?” Quinn demanded. “Are you insane?”

 

“Okay, maybe that was a poor choice of words. You have a lot to worry about,” she corrected, “but he’ll be just fine. I just didn’t want any of you precocious little spellcasters burning your way out, and the only way to be sure that something like him won’t is to keep him docile.”

 

“Some _thing_?” Santana asked curiously, cocking her head to the side.

 

“Just a figure of speech. Well, sort of.” Sorin said. “Isn’t this nice though? We’re having a conversation, and no one’s yelling. Anyone have questions?”

 

Finn lifted his hand like they were in a classroom, and Puck would’ve smacked him if his hands had been free. “What’s going to happen to us?”

 

“Well, I can’t tell you that, it would be giving the game away. You’re probably never going home again though, not that there’s much of anything or anyone to go back to. I’d apologize, but I think that on the whole, my subordinates and I actually took a great deal of pleasure in ensuring that.”

 

Puck saw red, and he nearly dislocated his shoulder trying to pull himself free to attack her. The cart erupted into chaos and Sorin waggled her fingers at them before she let go of the lip of the cart and dropped out of sight.

 

 “I am going to stab that bitch in the eye with a dull arrow,” Santana muttered after a moment of complete silence. “She is going to regret ever being born.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds like what would happen if you fought her,” sneered Quinn. “She definitely wouldn’t just beat you down again.”

 

“’Cause you stood up to her soooo well, what a hero,” Santana snapped back, “Maybe once you lose the rest of your baby-”

 

“Guys,” Mike said quietly, straining at his manacles to touch Santana’s arm. “This is not helping. We need to get away from here, not fight each other.”

 

They sat in silence for a long while.  _‘She could be lying_ ,’ Puck thought. ‘ _It might not be true_.’ It couldn’t be true. There were so many people there, better fighters than any of them. There was no way they would’ve been able to do that.

 

“We need to escape,” Puck said. “She’s lying, she’s trying to make us lose hope, but we need to escape even if she isn’t. When we’re free we can worry about home.”

 

Tina nodded and whispered, eyes red and barely making a sound, “I can get us out of these chains no problem, we just have to wait for the right moment. We’ll need Artie’s chair and our weapons if we want to make it very far, but it’s just a matter of choosing our timing well.”

 

“Those bracelets need to come off Mercedes and Rachel too, I think they’re cursed,” Puck added. The possibility of a concrete plan was helping to push the images of fire away. He then reconsidered, “Well, Mercedes, at least. We need her to be able to cast.”

 

“What about him? What if he stays like that?” Lauren muttered, nodding towards Kurt.

 

“We’re not leaving him,” Finn said firmly before Puck could open his mouth.

 

“Didn’t say we were, Chuckles,” said Lauren, narrowing her eyes at him.

 

“No, you didn’t, but Puck was about to.” Finn was staring at him accusingly. Puck felt kind of stung. Sure, Kurt’s magic was pretty creepy, but that didn’t mean Puck was going to abandon him to the gods knew what.

 

“Was not,” he hissed. “I was going to say, if we’re getting Artie’s chair anyway, we can just put Hummel on it too if he can’t walk on his own. It’s not like the enchantment on that thing has a weight limit. Does it?”

 

“Not one that Kurt would break,” Artie whispered. “Me and my dad worked on my chair for a long time so I wouldn’t just be a sitting duck in a fight. I might need some help steering, but I should be able to go anywhere we need to without too much difficulty and with Kurt.”

 

 “So what,” Quinn said. “We just play along until we get a chance to escape? Does anyone know how long we’ve been out? We’re heading east, that means we’re going through the Frostspine Mountains. There is literally nothing east of them, though. I’ve never seen a map of the other side. Has anyone else? Plus, she  _just_  told us that she’s killed everyone we know. How do we know she isn’t going to dump us in first Plaguelands they find and we’ll all end up abominations like Kurt, only worse?”

 

Mercedes jerked against her manacles, eyes flashing, and Tina hissed angrily, “Don’t call him that!”

 

“It’s not like it means I think he’s going to kill us all! It’s just a term, and it’s not like it doesn’t apply to him,” Quinn said. “Kurt’s not a bad guy. He’s okay to spend time with. That doesn’t mean that he isn’t spellscarred.”

 

“Well, you still shouldn’t call him that,” Artie muttered. “You’re right though. I have no idea what’s on the other side. No one’s been over these mountains from our side for a long time. I’ve seen pre-Spellplague maps, but those are over a hundred years old, and probably useless.”

 

Lauren was staring at Quinn, and hadn’t looked away since she had started talking. “I was the first one awake,” she said. “We have no way of knowing how long it’s been. That woman, Sorin, whatever, she’s a psion. She could’ve just kept erasing our memories.”

 

Santana was looking up. Puck followed her gaze. “The leaves on the fruit trees were still mostly green at home,” she said slowly. The trees that they could see had vibrantly coloured leaves, but they were red or yellow.

 

“It’s fall,” Brittany observed. “It’s not supposed to be. And I should have a bruise on my hand where I got hit last night, but I don’t.”

 

“Wait, if we’re in the mountains, there shouldn’t be leaves on the trees at all. They should be evergreens,” Tina said. “The trees aren’t right. We’re heading east, but we aren’t in the mountains. How is that possible?”

 

Puck felt his mouth drop open.  _How long has it been?_  ran through his mind. He looked at everyone else, who staring in disbelief, at the trees and at each other.

 

Finn finally whispered the words everyone was thinking. “We need to get out of here.”

 

~*~

 

Tina Cohen-Chang fiddled at the manacles on her hands. Finally she couldn’t take the suspense, and bent double to find the lockpick in her shirt collar to make sure it was still there. If they really had been held prisoner for however long, she must have tried to escape and she would’ve needed the lockpick.

 

Not only was the pick still there, it was still sewn in completely. She would have to pick out stitches to remove it. Which meant... “We haven’t tried to escape,” she reported, unable to completely mask her surprise. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but we haven’t tried to escape.”

 

Everyone else seemed to be concerned with thoughts of home or trying to remember what had happened. No one seemed to be shocked any further by the revelation that they hadn’t tried to escape.

 

“We probably weren’t in any state to try,” Mike said to her quietly. “If no one remembers anything, we might not have been conscious, even.”

 

Tina leaned back over to furiously swipe at the tears that welled up in her eyes. Now was not the time to break down. Their home had been attacked. People that she knew had died, there was no denying that. Maybe all the people that she had known were dead, except for ones she was with right now. They had been taken and chained up and time had passed that no one remembered, but it was not the time to cry. When they made it out of this, then it would be. But now it was the time to think, and plan.

 

“Tina?” Mike whispered. “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, please.” Tina forced a smile, but she knew that it was shaky and weak. The sun was behind them, and she couldn’t actually see it anymore over the tall walls of the cart. When the light was dim enough to play tricks on anyone watching’s eyes, she would unshackle herself and have a look around.

 

After another half hour or so of silence, someone calling a halt drifted over the walls of the cart. The cart rumbled to a stop, and what sounded like a flurry of activity erupted around them, surprising after the eerie silence that had persisted the entire day. They’d stopped briefly when the sun was high, and had been taken by a man one at a time to relieve themselves and been given some food, and even though Tina was not looking forward to repeating the humiliation of that ritual, she wasn’t dreading it enough to deny herself the chance to have a look around while they went.

 

With a series of thuds, the back of the cart was unbolted and removed, letting in a chilly breeze that made Tina shiver after however long she had been in the stagnant air of the cart. It revealed a second wagon, pulled by a large pair of horses. If their possessions were nearby, they would be in that wagon. Tina thought she could make out the wheels of Artie’s chair in the wagon bed, so it was just a matter of getting to it.

 

She leaned out of the cart, rapidly counting and assessing the enemy. She could almost hear her father telling her that if she wanted to quiet and sneaky, she had to be  _smart_  too, and she had never been more grateful that she had taken that to heart. They were mainly melee fighters, if their original fight had been any indication, but there were some wizards in there too, for sure, and it was going to suck for them if they couldn’t get their spellcasters battle ready and it turned to a fight.

 

There was the psion to deal with too. It was a rare discipline nowadays, but not rare enough that lessons on how to avoid being mentally manipulated hadn’t been part of everyone’s training. Not that they had done any good when no one had even suspected that they were being manipulated.

 

A youngish man came around to the back of the cart. Tina automatically tried to raise her hands to defend herself, jerking against the short chain of the manacles where it went through a ring on the cart bottom.

 

“None of that now,” he said. “You’re fine.” He produced a key and unlocked the cuffs around Tina’s wrist. “Hop on down now, we’ve got to get you all settled for the night before it gets too dark.” He slid the cuffs through the ring and slung them over his shoulder, and Tina wiggled over to the edge of the cart and jumped down.

 

“There’s a girl,” he said in a kind tone. “Left hand?” Tina hesitantly held out her arm, and he re-cuffed her. “Can’t have you running off, can we?” He took off walking, and Tina was forced to follow or be dragged. She counted twenty-three in the camp all told, including Sorin, who she could see silhouetted in a tent, but not her and her friends.

 

After she relieved herself, which was somehow even more uncomfortable than it had been that afternoon, the man led her back to camp, but took her around the back of the second wagon, dragging out a crate from a pile. “This one’s yours, right?” He asked, pulling out her cloak. Tina nodded, and he handed it to her. “We’ll just take the whole thing back with us, shall we? There are some extras, but it’s been getting colder at night.”

 

“Is the town really gone?” Tina blurted. The man’s entire demeanour instantly changed, going from overly-kind and familiar for someone holding prisoners to icy cruel.

 

“No,” he said. “Don’t be asking me questions. Grab this crate.”

 

Tina complied quickly, taking the opportunity to check the wagon’s contents. That was Artie’s chair, for sure, and she could see enough of their possessions to feel safe in assuming that enough of them were in there that they would be able to protect themselves if they had to head into the wilderness.

 

She climbed back into the cart, and the man ran the cuff back through the loop and snapped it around her right wrist. He turned to Mike, but only uncuffed one of his hands before pulling him out of the cart and leading him away.

 

“Most of our stuff is here, including Artie’s chair,” Tina whispered. “It’s buried deep in that wagon though, which could be a problem if we’re trying to sneak out of here.”

 

“We’ll have to deal with that when it happens,” Finn said back. “We’ll be able to get out of the wagon, but we won’t win a fight, especially if we need to protect Kurt and Artie.”

 

Artie frowned and leaned forward. “I don’t need any protection if we get my chair, and I can give some crowd control even if I don’t have it. Kurt’s the problem, he’s basically helpless.”

 

Quinn shook her head. “If you don’t have your chair and we need to retreat, we’ll be in trouble. When we escape, we should just focus on getting away from here first. We can find a place to hide, then Santana and I, and I guess Tina and maybe Rachel too can come back and retrieve our stuff. That way, if something goes wrong the people who can’t defend themselves won’t be accessible as leverage to force us to surrender.” Quinn spoke in the self-assured tones of someone who was used to being obeyed, and everyone nodded in assent.

 

Tina leaned forward and began to pick at the stitches in her collar to get at her lockpick, pausing when the man came back with Mike and took Brittany, and then resuming. It took her most of the time that everyone was being taken out one-by-one to get the stitches loose enough that she would be able to slide it out without much difficulty, and as the man lifted Artie back into the cart and climbed in after him, she sat stock still, trying to look afraid to avoid suspicion.

 

Artie’s hands had been untied before he was taken out, and the man was not gentle about retying them. When he had finished, he unlocked Kurt’s cuffs and dropped them to the floor of the cart. He picked Kurt up effortlessly in an impressive display of strength, and hopped off the back of the cart. Instead of taking Kurt the same way he had the rest of them, he turned the other way, carrying him towards the middle of the camp and, Tina realized with a sinking feeling, Sorin.

 

Tina leaned out the end to watch his progress. He was headed straight for the tent that she had seen Sorin in earlier, but quickly passed out of sight with the angle of the cart. Tina pulled at her cuffs to lean further out to try and glimpse them again, but was greeted by the back wall of the cart being lifted back into place, and she just barely pulled her face back quickly enough to avoid a broken nose. The bolts thudded into place ominously, and Tina stared at the newly replaced wall, stunned into quiet. She hadn’t expected or planned for separation. It was a wrinkle in their plans that would make things much harder.

 

There was a scuffle behind her, and she whirled around just in time to see Puck withdrawing his leg after kicking Finn. “Shut up,” he hissed. “Don’t shout, it won’t help and we can’t get out of here if they’re paying attention to us.”

 

Finn glared at him, but held his tongue. Tina tugged her lockpick out of her collar and starting working at the locks on her cuffs. The last traces of daylight were vanishing, and the gloom in the cart made picking the locks more difficult than normal, but in less than a minute she had them open and was working on Mike’s.

 

Unlocking the cuffs was nerve wracking. Every few seconds she paused, waiting for the sound of footsteps as someone came to check on them. No one did though, and after a tense fifteen minutes or so, everyone was free.

 

Tina gestured silently to Mike to pick her up. He had trouble making out her signals in the dark, but eventually got the message and held her up so she could peer over the top of the cart. No one was looking their way at the moment, and in fact most of the camp was going to sleep. She patted his head and he put her down obediently.

 

“They’re not looking,” she whispered. “Get me over the side away from them and I’ll take off the back of the cart again so everyone can get out.” Rachel grabbed her sleeve to get her attention and pointed at herself, then Tina, then the wall of the cart emphatically. “Fine,” she added. “Rachel too. But me first. I’ll signal when you can come out, and don’t come before.”

 

Mike and Finn lifted her, and when she was high enough, she grabbed the lip of the cart and pulled herself up. She swung her legs over, and chanced a glance towards the camp. Nearly everyone had disappeared into a tent, and the few that remained out were either facing away from the camp in watch, or huddled around the fire. She pulled her cloak out of the cart carefully, keeping in mind that choking herself if it got caught up on something would be embarrassing as well as probably get them killed, and slid down until she hung from the outside of the cart at full extension. She dropped silently to the ground, falling into a crouch to absorb the impact and minimize her profile.

 

There was something moving in the woods. Tina slowly moved until she was crouching behind one of the large cart wheels, and stared out into the darkness. After a moment she realized that the movement had been a sentry that she hadn’t spotted, and it was only sheer luck that she hadn’t been seen leaving the cart. There was no way they could get out without neutralizing at least that sentry, and she was unarmed. That would have to be the first thing she did.

 

Tina timed her dash to the other wagon carefully, waiting until she was sure that she wasn’t being watched and cursing her carelessness. They had one chance, and she had nearly destroyed it.

 

She wriggled along the ground to the back of the wagon and slid into it. It was much emptier than it had been, since all of their tents and bedrolls had been removed. Tina smiled when she noted that Artie’s chair was now easily accessible, but left it where it was for the moment, belting on her sword and sliding a long knife into her sleeve.

 

She returned to her position underneath the supply wagon and carefully observed the woods. She spotted two more, making three that she would have to take care of before they even had a chance of escape. She closed her eyes for a moment, reminding herself that she had always known that if they ever really did become adventurers, the time would come that she would have to kill people in cold blood. It was the role she’d chosen when she learned to skulk and hide and pick locks rather than stand strong in thirty pounds of steel and wield an enormous sword. She was saving her life, her friends’ lives, and revenging her home and family.

 

It had to be done. Tina moved.

 

~*~

 

Tina disappeared over the side and didn’t immediately signal for Rachel to follow. Rachel began to wonder if Tina had decided to take all the glory of enabling their escape, but then the back of the cart stayed in place, and not a single sound came in from outside and Rachel began to worry that something had happened to her. Tina wasn’t the sort to put her glory in front of other’s safety, and Rachel began to feel guilty for ever thinking that she would’ve. She tugged absently at the chain of the cursed bracelet, but it stayed put. There was no way it was coming off without magic.

 

Minutes passed, and there was nothing. Mike was beginning to look sick in the dim moonlight, and Artie was pale and silent. Rachel walked to the side of the cart and indicated to Finn that he should pick her up to look out, and when he had she peered into the night. There was nothing. No motion, no people, but no alarms had been raised either. Tina must have found something that she had to do, and Rachel was just about to try and communicate that to the others when Tina appeared directly below her, holding a long knife. Rachel was grateful for the silencing spell suddenly, because it meant that her undignified shriek of surprise was merely an open-mouthed jerk backward.

 

Tina gestured to her to come down. She looked upset, but everyone was. It had been a terrible day. Rachel carefully climbed over, pulling her legs out of Finn’s grasp, and Tina supported her on the way down. They made silent and quick work of unbolting the back, and strained to prevent it from dropping to the ground when it was heavier than expected. They had help though, when as soon as it started moving, Finn grabbed it from the inside and helped them guide it down.

 

Puck and Finn slid out of the cart and moved the back around to the side away from the camp, laying it down so it would be less conspicuous. Tina disappeared and returned with Artie’s chair, and he pulled himself to the back of the cart to and into it with Mike’s assistance. Quinn led them to the edge of the forest, but stopped and turned around before entering it.

 

“We have a choice here,” she whispered, near silent. “We’re not going to get an opportunity to clear out so many of them while they’re asleep again, and we know they’re going to come after us. If they realize we’re gone before we come back for Kurt, there might not a point to coming back for him. I say we don’t run. We,” she gestured to Brittany and Santana, “are trained in stealth, and I know Tina is too. The four of us could probably take out most of the camp before they realized anything, and then we would be safe.”

 

“You’re suggesting that we kill them all in their sleep?” Finn looked ill, and Rachel felt a churning in her stomach that wasn’t fear. It wouldn’t be a fight, it would be a slaughter. There was nothing glorious about that. If what Sorin had said to them was true though, those people had taken pleasure in murdering everyone they knew, and the thought of her dads being dead and gone made an ugly wish for revenge well up inside of her.

 

Rachel was speaking to agree with Quinn before she realized that she couldn’t. Instead she reached out and touched Quinn’s hand, nodding when Quinn looked at her.

 

“We don’t have a choice here,” Santana whispered harshly to Finn, who Mercedes was silently backing up. “It’s kill them now or be killed by them as soon as they chase us down.”

 

“It’s also our only chance to get Kurt out with us,” Tina added. “We can’t leave him here. You can yell and wake them up if you want to stop me, I’m going to do it. The only difference between waking them up and running now is that they’ll finish their job of killing everyone from Lilsholm that much sooner if someone yells.”

 

As one, the group turned to stare at Tina. “Tina?” Artie ventured finally. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’ve already killed three people tonight to save our lives,” she said dully. “What’s twenty more?”

 

Mike touched her arm tentatively after a moment of quiet. “That’s what you were doing when you got out of the cart?”

 

She nodded. “They were posted in the woods. We wouldn’t have stood a chance if they’d seen us, so I dealt with them. We can’t run Mike, you know we won’t make it. You know it.”

 

“I don’t want you all to have to do this though,” he whispered, voice cracking.

 

“It’ll be okay,” she said, a little shakily. “I don’t want to.  If I started wanting to, it’d be the time to worry. You guys just get a little deeper in the woods, and we’ll take care of this.” She looked to Quinn. “You’ll be able to find daggers in the back of that supply wagon, no problem. I’ll circle around and take care of the rest of the sentries, you guys start clearing out the tents. Okay?”

 

Quinn nodded briskly, and all four of them crept off, leaving the less stealthy members of the New Directions standing on the outskirts of an unknown forest. They slowly moved themselves further into the trees, and Rachel watched as the three rangers disappeared into a dark tent. Tina was nowhere to be seen.

 

In moments, Brittany’s head reappeared at the tent opening, only to freeze as one of the figures still sitting near the fire stood and turned around. She said something inaudible to her companions that resulted in equally quiet laughter, and walked into the woods nearby. Rachel saw her take a few steps into the trees, and then a shadow appeared behind her. Tina made a sharp jerking motion, and then she was lowering the woman to the ground and disappearing out of the dim illumination from the moon again.

 

Brittany, Santana and Quinn had moved to different tents, and Rachel felt Lauren moving behind her. “This is going to go south in the next minute, there’s no way they’ll get everyone on the first try and they’re moving way too fast. Get to that wagon, get a weapon and attack the people at the fires. Fast, but quiet. We need the element of surprise.”

 

Lauren brushed past her, dragging Puck, who caught up with her in seconds and pulled his arm loose. The rest of the group was quick to follow, and Rachel had just got her sword in her hands when there was a bloodcurdling shriek from one of the tents.

 

Before the echoes had died, Finn, Puck, Mike and Lauren were on the people at the fires, attacking hard and fast. Mercedes headed for the tent that the scream had come from, and Rachel was about to follow suit when she spotted Tina, making a run for the only lit tent.

 

Rachel turned and followed, pushing herself harder when she saw an enormous outline silhouetted against the side of the tent. She skidded to a halt inside the tent beside Tina, sword at the ready, just as Tina was saying in a dangerous voice, “Let go of him.”

 

Sorin grinned at them and let go of Kurt’s shirt collar. He stayed on his knees beside her, slumped down, his chin touching his chest. “You really want to do this again, children? As I recall, the last time you tried, it ended with you all comatose for almost a month.”

 

“We were outnumbered then,” Tina said, “You’re outnumbered now. By now, you’re completely alone. If you think you can take us all out without anyone to keep us occupied, I dare you to try.”

 

“I’m far from alone, little girl, but you have it right otherwise. The others were only ever meant as a distraction. Get up, Kurt.”

 

~*~

 

The last man standing swung wildly at Lauren. She calmly deflected his blow and smashed his face in with her hammer. He crumpled to the ground with a gurgle, and she surveyed the camp turned battleground. Minor injuries only on her side, complete annihilation on the other. She counted people quickly.

 

“Berry, Cohen-Chang, Hummel and Sorin,” she said, pointing to the one tent that was still lit up. “There, probably. Let’s go.”

 

Even as she spoke though, the roof of the tent erupted in an enormous blue ball of flame, blowing it well off the ground and over their heads into another tent, which also lit up into fire.

 

“Shit,” Artie breathed. “That was Kurt.”

 

Hudson was off like a shot, Mercedes close behind him. Lauren hefted her hammer and followed. The explosion had raised an enormous dust cloud, and as it slowly cleared, the outlines of two people standing, one huge, the other slim, became visible. The small one was still too big to be Rachel or Tina, and that left Hummel. He was unimportant though, compared to Sorin.

 

Lauren circled through the settling dust in an effort to get behind Sorin. She smirked in triumph when she took her back without Sorin noticing her, but it fell off of her face when she realized that Sorin was focused on Hummel, who stood facing her, his eyes and the visible Spellscar on his neck glowing a threatening bright blue that Lauren had only heard rumours about, never seen. His hands began to work like he was deftly shaping a delicate material into a form that only he could see, and magic began to leak out of his skin toward his hands, covering him in a faint blue glow that was terrifying to see. Lauren could have gone her entire life without seeing someone rip the essence of the Spellplague out of their body to cast magic, and the situation became ten times worse when he tilted his head and met her eyes.

 

Sorin had psionic abilities, and Kurt had been alone with her, and unconscious before that. He hadn’t been with the rest of them when they’d been captured, and now he was casting a spell at her. He wasn’t on their side, and the only question was if he’d betrayed them or if Sorin was controlling him. Either way, she was screwed if he hit her with that spell. Lauren charged at Sorin. If he was being controlled, maybe she could disrupt it if she just hit Sorin hard enough and then hopefully Kurt would be able to stop the spell on his own. She brought her hammer down hard, but it glanced off of an invisible barrier with a shower of sparks.

 

Hudson, Chang and Puckerman were there attacking Sorin as she swung again, but none of their swings had any more effect the second time and Hummel finished forming an what looked like an enormous ball of magical energy between his hands. Just as Lauren was bracing herself, he blinked hard and rapidly and Lauren thought she saw his lips form, “ _No_.” Hummel slapped his hands together, crushing the magic between them. The spell popped like a child’s ball that had been stepped on and the released magic crackled around his hands and up his arms, leaving shiny burns in its wake. The blue glow faded from his skin and eyes and he fell to his elbows and knees on the ground, silent, but twitching in obvious pain as the magic dissipated. Presumably not a traitor then, if he was willing to do that to himself instead of harming an acquaintance.

 

Sorin made a sound of annoyance and waved her hand. Lauren was suddenly twenty feet away from where she’d been standing, lying on the ground, and Puck, Chang and Hudson had been similarly blown back. She struggled to get her breath back, taking stock of the situation. Mercedes was crouched over Tina and Rachel, who had gone down at some point, presumably when Hummel blew up the tent in their faces. Lauren didn’t know what Mercedes thought she could do to help without being able to heal, but it wasn’t like she’d be much more useful doing something else. Artie was pulling at the Weave with nimble fingers and muttering a spell under his breath, staring at Sorin. Lauren couldn’t see the rangers, wherever they had gone.

 

Sorin stalked over to stand over Hummel, who had curled up on himself, shaking and moaning in pain. “I can’t believe you haven’t learned yet that it’s better when you don’t fight me. You should’ve just cast the spell, Kurt, because now I’m a little angry with you.” Lauren took advantage of her distraction to get back to her feet and find her hammer, but a sudden fit of dizziness staggered her. Sorin knelt down and grabbed Hummel’s head by his hair, tipping his chin back and exposing his throat. She raised her other hand to bring it down hard in what would have been a punishing blow, but twin arrows whizzed in before she could, just barely deflected from hitting her by her invisible shield.

 

“Back off,” Santana yelled sharply as she and Quinn nocked fresh arrows. Brittany came charging in smoothly, swords flashing in the light from the fires, and the two of them fired again. This time, the deflection was smaller, and one of them actually cut along her arm. Lauren came back in to support Brittany, but the boys had apparently been hit harder than she had and they stayed down. Mercedes picked up her mace and charged to join the fight, and Artie was staring, his face set and a complete spell pulsing in his hands as he waited for his best chance. Lauren and Brittany reached Sorin at the same time, and coordinated their attack automatically.

 

Brittany’s swords glanced off Sorin’s front, but Lauren’s swing connected with a satisfying thud on her back. Artie released his spell at the same instant, the spell reforming itself into the shape of three glowing arrows and shooting towards Sorin. They shot right through her failing shield, sizzling through her clothes and disappearing. She growled and swung an enormous fist at Brittany, who dodged the blow but not the psychic energy surrounding it. She spun and collapsed under the force of the attack, and Lauren heard Santana swear angrily in the background as she swung her hammer again, connecting in the same spot as before.

 

Sorin whirled to face Lauren, but exposed her back to Quinn and Santana in the process. They launched another volley, and Artie moved closer as he began to cast another spell. Mercedes took Brittany’s place flanking Sorin from the side so she didn’t block shots, and swung her mace hard. Quinn and Santana’s arrows sunk into her back, and she jerked in pain, giving Lauren an opening for an overhead swing that came down hard on her shoulder.

 

“I suppose you feel like you’re doing well,” Sorin growled at her through gritted teeth, “and that you have a chance? The only reason you’re still fighting is that I need you all alive.”

 

Lauren swung again, and it bounced off of a renewed shield. Artie let out a stream of fire from his hands at the same time, and it spread over the shield harmlessly instead of reaching Sorin, who reached out and swung at Lauren. Stars appeared in front of her vision, and she barely felt the ground when she hit it.

 

When she forced her eyes open again, she was looking at a portal to somewhere else that buzzed with magic. She could see a stone wall through it, and Sorin was standing in front of it, ready to step through. “Have a fun few days without me, kids. I’ll be back when I can.” She stepped into the portal, and it closed behind her with a crackling sound. She was gone, presumably to get reinforcements. Lauren didn’t know how long it would take, but she knew that they needed to move if they wanted to have a chance of evasion when she returned.

 

First things first though, she needed to assess the condition of the others. It would be dangerous to go it on her own in unfamiliar territory, and she would be leaving these idiots to die if she did. Lauren was a lot of things, chief among them badass, but she wasn’t heartless.

 

Lauren rolled onto her back, her side aching sharply, and turned her head to look around. Quinn, Santana and Artie were the only ones that had managed to stay upright, but most everyone was picking themselves back up. Lauren ignored the pain in her muscles, she’d had worse on the practise ground, and stood up, taking a few steps to check up on Brittany as Santana rushed over.

 

“You okay?” she asked. Brittany rolled to look up at her and nodded.

 

“I don’t like her very much, her boobs aren’t nice enough to make up for how mean she is.” She tipped her chin up, trying to peer back at everyone else without moving. “Is Santana okay?”

 

Santana made it over and tried to push her out of the way, failing miserably, but Lauren obligingly moved away anyway. There were people who were actually hurt to pay attention to. “I’m fine Britt, are you?” she heard Santana ask as she headed towards Hummel, who was still curled up around himself on the ground nearby.

 

Quinn and Puckerman were headed back toward the supply wagon, Puckerman limping heavily. Mike and Hudson had made it over to where Tina and Rachel were sprawled, both of them unsteady on their feet, and Artie and Mercedes were leaning over Hummel already. Mercedes dropped to her knees at his side, touching his face gently. Lauren resisted the urge to shudder. She had avoided Hummel mostly, but she had heard enough of the stories and seen enough of what he had inside of him in the last few minutes that the thought of touching him gave her the chills.

 

But Hudson had been angry when he’d thought that Puckerman was going to suggest leaving him behind, and Chang had always seemed vaguely upset when people talked in the barracks about how they wanted to “take care of the problem”. If the people who spent time with him cared about him, he couldn’t be all bad, and Lauren knew his dad was a good guy. He’d made her hammer himself, and it was a quality piece of work. Lauren swallowed down her gut reaction and took the last few steps to Hummel, kneeling down beside Mercedes, who was looking increasingly frustrated as she tried and failed to speak.

 

“Let me,” she said. Mercedes looked at her suspiciously, but moved to the side so Lauren could examine him closer anyway. His hands were badly burned, and the burns continued in circular patterns up his arms where his tunic had been burned away. She cringed in sympathy, burns hurt like nothing else, but they probably weren’t his worst problem. If whatever Sorin had done to him to keep him unconscious and then force him to cast spells at his own allies had lasting effects, they would probably have a hard time getting far enough away that she couldn’t catch them.

 

“Hummel,” she tried. “Hey, Hummel, are you still in there?” She was rewarded by his eyelids flicking open slightly, enough that she could tell that the glow in his eyes was completely gone. Lauren breathed a tiny sigh of relief that he probably wouldn’t be launching a ball of fire at her face anytime soon and rolled him over onto his back.

 

He opened his eyes fully, and Lauren was about to try to get him upright when he flexed his hands and cried out in pain, squeezing his eyelids tightly shut again.

 

“Don’t suppose you can do anything about his hands without your voice?” she said to Mercedes, who shook her head and leaned in to stroke a soothing hand down Hummel’s face. Artie, who had sat there silently while they took turns trying their hands at getting Hummel’s attention, finally opened his mouth.

 

“Hey Kurt?” Hummel tipped his face towards Artie in acknowledgement but kept his face scrunched up in a grimace. “You miscast a spell and your hands got burned. It’s not too bad though, I promise. We have to get out of here, can you get up?”

 

Hummel groaned in acknowledgement slowly, but almost smashed his face into Lauren’s when he jerked upright, eyes suddenly wide and his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. “Oh gods,” he gasped before rolling over and dry heaving. Lauren realized too late that he would be putting his weight on his burned hands in his new position, but Mercedes moved quickly, getting behind him and supporting his weight before he managed to put his hands down.

 

Lauren looked away as he took short shallow breaths to regain control of himself. “Mercedes?” he eventually said in a tiny questioning voice, craning his neck around to look at her. “How much of that happened?”

 

Mercedes looked past Hummel to Artie, who shrugged. Then she furrowed her brow at him pointedly, and he said “Oh!” when he remembered that Mercedes wouldn’t be doing much explanation. “What do you remember happening, Kurt? All we were here for was the part where she tried to make you roast Lauren Zizes and you blew the spell up on yourself instead.”

 

“Thanks for that, by the way,” Lauren said dryly. Hummel looked at her with confusion then transferred his gaze to Artie.

 

“I remember that. I’m sorry.” He bit his lip and looked down. “I remember lots of other things too, but I don’t think they happened. Was there a dragon? What’s going on?”

 

Artie shook his head, “No dragon, at least not that we know about. That woman, Sorin?” Kurt nodded, furrowing his brow introspectively. “I don’t know what she did to you, exactly, but she lured the rest of us out of town and knocked us out, then we woke up in that wagon over there this morning, and we know it’s been a while since we were in Lilsholm, but none of us remember any of it. So we escaped the wagon, and took care of her minions, but she escaped. Well, more like she left to get reinforcements because I’m pretty sure she could’ve kicked our asses if she didn’t want us alive, and that’s about where we are now in terms of screwed.”

 

Kurt sat there for a moment quietly, looking oddly unsurprised. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he bit his tongue, instead leaning forward and taking his weight off of Mercedes. He turned to look at her once more. “Why aren’t you talking Mercedes?”

 

“Cursed bracelet,” Lauren answered, and Mercedes held up her arm. “Her and Berry both had one put on them.”

 

“They won’t come off?” Kurt asked.

 

“Nah, they’re good and stuck, at least when you try to pull at them.” Everyone else was sitting up now, even if Rachel and Tina were looking somewhat the worse for wear. Lauren looked around, noting injuries. Everyone was moving stiffly, and Tina had to lean on Chang heavily as they made their way over. If they were going to make it any distance at all quickly, they were going to need healing, and that meant that bracelet was going to have to come off. She looked at Hummel, then at Artie. “Magic might be more effective, and the two of you are the only casters we have right now with those two in those bracelets. Do you know how to take off something that’s cursed?”

 

Artie shook his head, looking at Mercedes. “Curse removal is cleric stuff, and if Mercedes can’t talk she can’t cast the spell to do it. I don’t know how we’ll be able to get those off.”

 

Kurt frowned, his hands twitching. His voice was calm when he said, “I know something that might work, but if it doesn’t we’ll be worse off. And I’d have to do Mercedes first because we’d both need healing after, but then she could do Rachel.” He squirmed around on the dirt until he was facing Mercedes.

 

“The bracelets?” Tina asked as Mike set her down. “You can take them off, Kurt?”

 

“When someone at home came across a cursed item, they would usually bring them to my dad for disposal. This kind of thing tends to not resist being melted in a forge fire very well. The problem is, since Mercedes is wearing it, I’d burn her while I melted the bracelet, and to concentrate the heat enough, I’d pretty much have to be holding it while I burned it. It takes a lot of heat to burn me, but I think I’d probably lose most of my hand. If it works though, Mercedes could heal that.” His tone stayed calm as he spoke, even while he was suggesting that he cast a spell hot enough to melt metal on himself and his best friend. Lauren frowned. She didn’t know Hummel very well, but that wasn’t reasonable behaviour for anyone. Tina and Artie were looking at him askance, and Mercedes was staring wide-eyed at him, confirming that the suggestion was out of character for him.

 

Brittany and Santana had come over while Kurt was talking, and Hudson was helping Berry up, but the stiffness in his spine clearly indicated that he’d been listening. “There’s got to be another way to try first,” he said tensely. “Don’t do this.”

 

Hummel ignored him, looking at Mercedes. “Do you have any other way to get it off? Do we have any scrolls, or, or magical shears, or anything like that?” he asked. His eyes were glistening, and his facade of calm was beginning to disappear. Mercedes paused to think for a moment, but shook her head. She held out her hand to Hummel, who lifted his own already burned hand to try and slip it between Mercedes’ arm and the thin chain. He hissed with pain as he forced his palm in, and then held his hand there.

 

“Okay,” he said, voice shaky. “So you pull your arm up, and I’ll pull my hand down, and I’ll stop my spell as soon as I can hear you, so don’t try to be quiet.”

 

They took a deep breath in unison, and then both of them closed their eyes. The eerie glow on the side of Hummel’s neck started up again, and then the aura created by the magic being pulled out of him appeared and his fingers were working busily, less graceful than they had before, but faster since he wasn’t fighting with himself about casting the spell. Within seconds of beginning casting, he clenched his fist around the bracelet and gasped, his eyes snapping open and revealing their vibrant blue glow.

 

A tiny inhale was the only warning before he began to scream in agony. Mercedes was a terrifyingly silent mirror as her face contorted in pain and Lauren felt a wall of heat hit her in the face. Puckerman and Quinn came running from where they had been checking the contents of the supply wagon, weapons at the ready, but stopped short when they realized what was happening with an in unison gasp that would’ve made Lauren roll her eyes in a less serious situation.

 

After what felt like hours, but was certainly only seconds, there was a loud pop, and Mercedes’ screams became suddenly, shockingly audible.

 

Lauren was ready for what would inevitably come next and when Hummel and Mercedes both let their badly burned arms drop she grabbed a tight hold of their elbows, keeping them from hitting the ground. As their screams died down into whimpers, she felt a heavy weight collapse into her side as Hummel folded over forward, and Mercedes was barely upright herself, her tunic sleeve burned away and the skin of her arm bubbly and cracked with the burn.

 

Mercedes pulled back her arm from Lauren’s grip and began a prayer to cast a healing spell, so Lauren turned to Hummel fully, placing her freed hand on his chest and tipping him upright. Liquified metal dripped from his fingers and hissed when it struck the ground, and the smell of burned meat was overwhelming when she turned to face him. Lauren had to look away when she saw a flash of white bone, and she could hear the sounds of retching from someone else. His hand was destroyed, cauterized by the fire so thoroughly that it wasn’t even bleeding. His head tipped forward, and then even his moans tapered off as he lost consciousness.

 

“Well, at least it worked,” Lauren said, her voice weak. Mercedes finished her first spell and immediately launched into another, and Lauren pulled Hummel around herself to give her easier access. Mercedes sounded steadier, stronger after healing herself, and even though her arm was still obviously burned, her skin was whole again.

 

Mercedes was crying as she chanted her prayer, and when she reached out to stroke a finger across Hummel’s mangled hand to direct the spell, her hand was shaking so badly that she nearly missed him. Charred flesh began to fade to an angry red as Lauren watched, and the skin and muscle that had burned away grew back. Mercedes started another incantation when the power of the first spell reached its limit.

 

The wound was still open, and began to bleed quickly, most of the important blood vessels apparently having regenerated. Lauren tilted his hand down so his blood would run away from her, but the movement apparently woke him up again, because he started crying and trying to pull his hand away. Lauren held him there steadily, easily overcoming his pain-induced weakness. Mercedes finished the second spell and touched his hand again, and the healing began faster the second time. The magical burns up his arms wholly disappeared, and there was no trace of the gruesome mess his hand had been only moments before in the new pale skin of his palm.

 

Lauren let go of his arm, and he clutched his hand to his chest, breathing hard and blinking back tears. “It’s off?” he asked tremulously.

 

“Yeah, it’s off. It was good thinking Kurt,” Mercedes said in a gentle voice. “Thank you.” She sounded thin and strained, but Kurt bobbed his head anyway, before suddenly seeming to realize that Lauren was still holding him up.

 

“Sorry,” he said, scooting away. Without support he just kind of flopped down to the ground, but he’d obviously been as uncomfortable as Lauren at their close proximity and she chose to keep her automatic snarky response to herself.

 

“No worries,” she said. “We’re a little less fucked now that you’ve done that, so good job guys.”

 

Rachel moved over to where Mercedes was kneeling in the ground and presented her arm hesitantly, like she was expecting to be burned.

 

“It’s not going to hurt, Rachel,” Mercedes said, launching into another spell, this one considerably more complex than the healing prayers she’d been performing.

 

“Are you okay, Kurt? Did she hurt you?” Hudson asked quietly.

 

“I’m fine. Nothing to worry about. I’m going to go and try to find a new tunic,” Hummel replied shortly, standing up and staggering back towards the wagons.

 

There was something wrong with him, it was obvious. At the very least, he seemed to know more about what was going on than anyone else, and even if he had once been trustworthy, he wasn’t acting like himself and had very recently been manipulated by a psion. It was impossible to say how much of him was Hummel and how much was Sorin.

 

Lauren got to her feet and followed him after him, intending to start gathering supplies. If they were on the road for any length of time, they would need food and water, and if they were running from Sorin, they wouldn’t have time to gather it. Figuring Hummel out could be done at the same time, if she did it correctly, but it wasn’t a big deal yet if she couldn’t. After all, he had just willingly gone through terrible agony to get their only cleric back into commission, and if Sorin had had full control over him, she certainly wouldn’t have allowed that.

 

She stopped beside Quinn. “What did you guys find in the supply wagon? Will we be okay with what’s in there?”

 

“Enough food for a while, at least, and we’ve got weapons and armour as well as winter clothing. If Mercedes can heal all of us, we’ll be able to get going tonight. We could also just take the cart, if we stick to roads for a little bit.”

 

Lauren looked at Puckerman. “You should get her to look at your ankle, that limp looks bad. You and Cohen-Chang are the ones with injuries that’ll slow you down the most, so we should get you done first.” He nodded in agreement, and Lauren smirked internally. She’d learned a long time ago that if she phrased orders as requests just about anyone would obey. She turned back to Quinn. “Do you want to get your rangers and we’ll see about loading up packs? They both seem pretty much uninjured.”

 

Quinn shrugged. Lauren took that as agreement and moved on. Mercedes finally finished her chant and Lauren turned around to see the bracelet pop off of Rachel’s wrist. She opened her mouth to talk, and Lauren sped up to get a little further out of earshot.

 

When she caught up to Hummel, he wearing only his undershirt and shivering in the night air, his burned and bloody tunic in a pile next to him as he kneeled in the back of the wagon and shifted through a box of fabric.

 

“You probably could’ve stood to have kept that on a while longer,” she observed, leaning against the back of the wagon.

 

He jerked in surprise, but settled quickly. “I needed it to come off. It was ruined, and gross, and it isn’t what I remember putting on. It’s not even mine.” He started pulling clothing out finally, squinting at them in the dark as he dismissed them.

 

“What do you remember putting on?” Lauren asked, forcing a casual tone as she climbed up beside him and picked another box to rifle through. More clothing. It would be handy, considering how many people’s clothes had been ruined in the fight, but not what she was looking for.

 

“A lot of things,” he said evasively. “Not this.” He tossed a thin shirt to one side before continuing his search and adding more clothes to growing piles beside him. “I’m putting together spare outfits for everybody, I think we’ll need them if we’re as far from home as Artie said.”

 

He was changing the subject, and not even being subtle about it. Lauren played along, saying, “Put any waterskins you find to one side. We’ll be heading back through mountains, and I think we’ll hit snow this time of year so we’ll need all the water we can carry. I think we might have to go into the tents for them and for shoulder packs to put this all in though.” She finally found a box containing food, dried meat wrapped in cloth packages. She took the box off the top of the pile and looked at the one below it, which turned out to have some sort of dried fruit. She tossed one to Hummel. “What’s this?”

 

He inspected the fruit carefully, and then bit into it. He chewed it slowly, and finally shook his head. “I have no idea. It tastes okay though.” He shrugged. “If it doesn’t kill us, it doesn’t much matter what it is, does it?”

 

“No, I guess not,” Lauren said. “So then my question to you is, do I have to worry about you killing us?”

 

She kept her back to him, but she clearly heard a tiny catch in his breath just before he whirled to look at her. “What?”

 

She turned around, grateful to be standing while he kneeled, because that was the only way she could tower over him intimidatingly. “Hummel. Sorin came after you first, because she cared the most about you. She kept you unconscious when there was a chance you could talk to the rest of us, and about half an hour ago, you nearly blew me up. You did hit Cohen-Chang and Berry. See, I’ve heard a lot of stories about you, and I’m a little leery about trusting you. She messed with all our minds, we know that, but we don’t know how much. I do know, though, that she messed with your head the most, and that what you just did out there, with the burning your hand mostly off thing, that’s not something that someone who isn’t really fucked up does without checking all the other options off his list first.”

 

Hummel stared up at her, silent and wide eyed. She took a step closer, and he leaned back to not break eye contact. “So what I’m saying is, you can either spill, or I can tell everyone what I’m thinking about your motivations. What did she do to you?”

 

His lip was trembling, and he shook his head. “No.”

 

“No, what? No, she didn’t do anything to you, no, I’m not going to tell you anything, no, you’re a stubborn-”

 

“I  _can’t_. I can’t say it, it makes it true, please don’t ask.” He stopped, and stared up at her pleadingly, and Lauren thought back to what Sorin had taunted them with earlier. The realization of what Hummel wasn’t saying coupled with the sudden sinking feeling in her stomach made her want to puke.

 

“She really did burn Lilsholm to the ground.” Lauren barely breathed it out, and the way Hummel flinched when she said it confirmed everything. He looked her in the eye, but there was a dreamy quality to his voice that indicated that he was not completely present mentally.

 

“I saw the fight, I saw you all get dragged onto the cart, but she told me to stand there and watch the fires and I did. I could hear people screaming and screaming and then it stopped.” Hummel looked down and away from her finally. His hands were white with cold and tension, and his shivers were getting more violent.

 

Lauren wanted to scream. She wanted to slap Hummel around until he admitted that he was lying, that Lilsholm was still there, that her family would be waiting for her when they returned. She wanted to hide her face in her hands and cry but none of that would help. Instead, she took several deep breaths in succession, pushing down everything she felt until her heart was beating normally again and then she knelt down in front of him. Hummel looked up, the dampness in his eyes glinting dully, but she refused to meet his eyes again. She fished a thick tunic out of one of the piles he’d been making and held it up to him. It would fit, or almost fit, anyway, so she set it on her lap and dug quickly through the pile for a new undershirt.

 

“You can’t be out here for long like this, I don’t know what you’re thinking. Take off that undershirt, it’s got blood on it.” He clumsily obeyed, tugging it up and over his head. He twisted to toss it away, exposing the faintly glistening outline of his spellscar, centered on his left shoulder and tracing outwards in a complicated pattern. Lauren shuddered, but hid it by pulling the fresh shirt over his head and giving him the tunic. “Put those on, your cloak is in the other cart. Finish what you’re doing here, and see if you can find some spare tents and bedrolls. I think we’ve managed to ruin most of the ones they used tonight between fires and bloody deaths. Okay? Can you do that? I’ll find some shoulder packs to load up, and then we can all get away from here.”

 

“Don’t tell the others, not yet,” he whispered.

 

“No, not yet but they need to know soon. It’ll be easier for a while if they don’t know for sure, but Sorin told us earlier that they’d killed as many people in Lilsholm as they could. All you’re doing is confirming what we don’t want to admit we already know. Now, pull yourself together for at least a little longer, we need this done.” Lauren couldn’t afford to break down, not while they were still in so much danger, and if that meant that she had to pull Hummel back from the brink of what would undoubtedly devolve into a sob fest, she would do it. At least if his odd behaviour was the result of trauma and not residual mind control he wasn’t likely to kill them all in their sleep. It really sucked for him, but it was a lot safer for everyone else.

 

She hopped out the back of the wagon and caught Quinn’s arm, who had finally managed to corral Brittany and Santana and drag them over to the wagon. “Hummel’s going to deal with that. We need to go through the tents that he didn’t manage to set on fire and get packs and waterskins plus any bedrolls that aren’t covered in blood, and we’ll take one tent. We can take a cart to start with, but keep everything packed in bags in case we need to abandon the road in a hurry. Sound good?”

 

“Yeah, fine,” Quinn agreed. “We’ll do that, you go and get everyone else moving. They have no idea what to do.”

 

It took another hour to get everyone geared up to go. They’d dumped everything they didn’t want onto the ground beside the wagon that they hadn’t been chained up in, and hitched the two huge horses that had pulled the heavy cart up to it. From the position of the moon, it was nearly midnight, and Lauren was exhausted. Actually, everyone was exhausted, and it was obvious. Her breath was freezing in the night air, and tempers were running thin from the stress of the day. She was not looking forward to the argument about which way to go.

 

“She’ll be back, she said she would be,” Puck said sharply. “We need help, and that means that we need to head towards home as quickly as we can. She can take us down, but someone like Commander Beiste, or Sue Sylvester? They’d eat her for breakfast.”

 

“If we head straight for home she’ll just catch us faster, Puck,” Santana said. “Or did you miss the part where she knows how to cast portals and knows that we would head for home? She’d just get in front of us and then we’d be screwed.”

 

“We have to go home though,” Hudson insisted. “We have literally nowhere else to go. We have no idea where we are, or where we’ll end up if we head anywhere but back through the mountains.”

 

“It’s too dark to take anything that isn’t a wide track anyway, and we need to get away from here,” Mercedes said reasonably. Lauren’s eyes flicked to Hummel, standing very close to Mercedes and still shivering slightly in the cold. He didn’t react to her look, staring off into space, and Mercedes continued, “Let’s head west down the track we came up for now, and then we can talk some more when the sun comes up. Besides, the longer we stick to roads, the longer we can use the cart, and that’s the only road that will take us towards home.”

 

“Fine,” Santana said. “It’s your fault when she catches us because we’re so predictable though.” She jumped up into the back of the wagon and dropped her pack, sitting on it primly. “Who’s driving?”

 

“I am,” said Mike, cutting off Hudson and Puckerman. “Everyone else, get in.”

 

It was a tight squeeze, cramming eleven people into the wagon, and they all had to sit on their packs, but it meant that it was warmer. Lauren’s attention kept coming back to Hummel, cuddled up to Mercedes and with Tina on the other side of him, but he hadn’t moved since he’d turned his face into Mercedes’ arm and closed his eyes.

 

Brittany sat beside Tina, snuggling with Santana, with Quinn sitting aloof at the back of the wagon on the other side of Santana, her cloak wrapped tight around herself and staring up at the stars. Puck was sitting stony faced behind Mike, his axe across his knees and looking at Quinn. Hudson had Berry wrapped up in his arms and his eyes closed, but she was wide awake, staring at nothing on the canvas wagon top. Artie sat between them and Lauren, stealing glances at Tina now and then but looking more and more involved with his own thoughts.

 

Lauren looked out the back of the wagon as the fires they had left burning flickered. The night was windless enough that they wouldn’t reach the trees, and neither Hummel nor Mercedes had had the reserves left to put it out, and they’d decided as a group that having one magic user still capable of casting was more important than putting out the fires, so Artie had left them be rather than tire himself out.

 

She wondered what it had been like for her family when they’d died. If they’d been in the town square and had been engulfed in the first blast, if they’d been at home and suffocated in the smoke, if they had been trapped and had to wait for the end to come to them. She was crying, she’d been holding tears back since Hummel had confirmed what Sorin had said, but at least she’d always been a quiet crier, and keeping her face turned away kept anyone from seeing and asking questions.

 

Lauren watched the fires until they turned a bend and she couldn’t see them anymore, and then she watched the pillar of smoke they created and thought about revenge.

 

~*~


End file.
